


the smallest coffins are the heaviest

by Aria_Cinabun



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, No there will not be a second part don't ask, Tommy gets angry, okay I lost what are the odds, there's gonna be a second part, wow this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Cinabun/pseuds/Aria_Cinabun
Summary: Tommy is accused of murder.Nobody believes him.The world revolves nonetheless.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 115
Kudos: 1272
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	1. Chapter 1

"Thomas Shelton." 

The speakers cut off after they say his name.

He shakes with quiet rage as he enters the Guild meeting room, forcing a neutral look onto his face. 

They are all there. They are all there - the people who were supposed to be his _friends_ , who stabbed him in the back and left him to rot, who called him a _liar_ , who didn't believe him. 

He stands in front of the table, staring at Wilbur, the Guildmaster. Technoblade sits to his left, and Phil to his right, and then there are the rest of the members surrounding them - Tubbo and Fundy and Dream and Niki and Skeppy and Bad - they are all there, because of him.

He _hates_ them. All of them. 

"Tommy," Wilbur starts, dejection and sorrow in his eyes as he stares at the boy who stands in the center of the room. "I am so sorry."

He is silent. They are waiting for a response, but he is silent. There is nothing that he can say - that _they_ can say, to make this better. There is nothing anyone can do to fix this. 

"I would like to formally apologize on behalf of the Guild," Wilbur continues, wincing at his silence. "You were right. We should have believed you when you said that you didn't kill an innocent."

He snorts, unable to maintain his quietness. "You should have. You didn't." He sees at least a half dozen people cringe at his words, because they weren't there for him when they should have been, and it's _all their fault_. 

"I'm so sorry - "

"No," Tommy says harshly. " _No_."

"...no, what?" Techno asks. 

Tommy spies a plate in front of Fundy. "Can I borrow that?" he asks his former friend. 

"Uh, sure," Fundy says, grabbing his half-eaten PB&J off of it. Tommy takes it. Stares at it. It is ceramic and white and pretty and tiny cracks are jutting from the edges, some of the ridges at the edge bearing scratches. 

He takes the plate and throws it against the floor in front of him.

It shatters.

He feels the tiny cuts as ceramic goes everywhere, sharp and tiny and glittery and broken. Wilbur jumps up, but Phil pulls him down.

"I'm sorry I broke your plate, Fundy," he says to the orange-haired man. 

"Uhh..."

Tommy rolls his eyes and looks down at the floor. "Guess what? GUESS WHAT?" He screams the last part, getting winces from the crowd at the volume of his tone. "The plate is still fucking broken." He looks back into Wilbur's eyes. "What does that tell you about apologies?"

"Well, I mean, I wouldn't compare you to a ceramic plate - " Techno starts.

Tommy cuts him off. "Shut the fuck up, Techno. I don't want any of your stupid quips right now." Surprisingly, Techno shuts up. "Wilbur Soot. What. Does. That. Tell. You. About. Apologies."

Wilbur is silent. 

"That's what I thought," Tommy snorted. "All of you were _waiting_ to see me gone, weren't you?" Realistically, he knows that's not true, but he can't help but feel the hatred pour from him. "The moment something comes up, and I get blamed, you turn your backs and _walk away_."

"That's not true," Phil objects.

"Yes, it is," Tommy says in a dangerously low voice. " _Yes, it is_ . I told you that I would _never_ kill an innocent person. You didn't believe me. I told you time and time again that I did not kill him."

"The evidence was really high," Wilbur says, as if that's proving anything. 

"And yet here I stand," Tommy says. "Here I stand with you attempting to apologize to me. I was nearly sent to the _slave mines_ , Wilbur Soot. I would have died. And you were going to let it happen."

"I was _not_ ," Wilbur says. 

"Yes, you _were_ ," Tommy snarls, slamming his hand down on the table and making everyone jump. "Don't even try to deny it. You sit there and tell me that you are _sorry_ , but it is too late for apologies, Wilbur Soot. It is far too late."

" _I_ wouldn't have let you get sent," Phil objects.

"Yeah, but you think a sixteen-year-old boy who is locked in a jail cell knew that?" Tommy says, and Phil flinches softly. "You all abandoned me." Except Tubbo, but that's something he'll address later. "You left me and you didn't believe me, and _you_ \- " he snarls at Wilbur, who looks taken aback. " - you looked into my face and you told me that I was a liar."

"The evidence - "

"FUCK THE EVIDENCE!" he screams. "The evidence was _false_ . I _told_ you that I would never kill someone who was innocent, and nobody believed me. You turned your backs on me and you left me to die. What do you think that _I'm_ feeling right now? That everything can go back to being what it was before?"

"I was hoping - " Wilbur says. 

"Oh, fuck off," Tommy snorts. "Obviously, you don't know me at all. And as such, we are no longer friends." Wilbur looks shocked. "Actually, none of you are. Fuck you."

"Tommy, don't be dramatic," Dream says from the crowd.

"You think I'm joking?" he says quietly. "You think I'm _joking_ ? You ruined my life. This Guild ruined my life. You accused me of murder and then you apologize when you find out that it wasn't me, when I had been screaming at you that it _wasn't_ me? You didn't believe me. You didn't trust me. We. Aren't. Friends." He looks up at Wilbur and swears he sees tears poke in the corner of the taller man's eyes. He doesn't care. "A wise man once said that all friendships must come to an end. Move on." 

"Tommy..." Wilbur whispers. 

"Actually," he says, and then proceeds to tear his Guild sigil from his chest. "I'm done with the Guild. Goodbye." 

He turns and he's at the door when someone speaks.

"Tommy, please don't do this," Phil says. "You don't have to, we can rebuild, we'll trust you next time."

He's so mad. He's pissed. He's furious. With all of them. "There isn't going to be a next time," he says coldly. "Obviously, you don't trust me. And I don't trust you to protect me when you are the ones who hurt me so severely. I'm better off on my own."

"What if you die?" Techno asks. 

"I don't give a shit if I die because I am alone," he says, anger warring with his voice. He resisted screaming, choosing to maintain a cool, furious tone. "At least it wouldn't be because I was backstabbed by the people I used to call my family.

And Tommy turns and walks away. 

They let him. They let him walk away because they could not stop him and he knows that some of them would think he would come crawling back, but he _wouldn't_ , because he was done with them. 

"TOMMY!"

He's at the foot of the Guildhall when his best friend's voice rings out, echoing against the tall columns that he used to think were cool, but now just thinks they're cold and dark and desolate. 

"What do you want, Tubbo?"

"Tommy, why are you doing this?"

"I have to," he says, staring off into the bustling city below. "I can't stay here any longer. They betrayed me. My dearest friends left me to die. My family turned their back and told me that I was a liar to my face."

" _I_ didn't," Tubbo says pleadingly, and Tommy is crying, and he can't let Tubbo see that he regrets doing this. Because he does. He doesn't want to, but he does. "I stood by you."

"I know you did, Tubbo," he says. "And I'm grateful for that. I really am. But this isn't about you, it's about me."

Tubbo is silent. "I understand. I understand why you want to leave, I really do."

He knows what Tubbo's next words are before he says them. "Stay with the Guild, Tubbo," he says softly. "They are your family."

"They betrayed you."

"I know they did, but I also know that they would never do that again," he says.

"Then why are you leaving?"

He is silent as he thinks about what to say next. "Because even though I know it probably won't happen again, I can't see them, Tubbo. I can't sit there and pretend that everything is fine after what happened. After what they did. They didn't trust me, and I fell because of it."

"We can start over - "

He cuts his friend off with an angry snort. "Once you pour water over a fire, Tubbo, you have to get new wood. And a new campsite." It's a metaphor that's popular amongst the Guild, and judging by Tubbo's silence, he understands. Tommy sighs, and turns to face his friend, blinking when he sees messed up blonde hair and bloodshot eyes and tears and teeth that are biting down on his lower lip so that he doesn't sob out. 

Tubbo launches into him with a hug so tight it takes his breath away, and Tommy hugs the shorter boy back. "I'll see you again, I promise. The full moon every month, in the glade. I'll be there."

"Okay," Tubbo sniffles, pulling back and wiping at his eyes. "Okay."

"I love you," Tommy whispers.

"Love you too," Tubbo says, letting out a loud sob.

And Tommy turns and walks away. From his home. From the one friend in the whole world that he still trusts. From the people he used to call his family. From the one home he'd had for sixteen years.

From everything.

"Goodbye," he whispers. 

_Goodbye_. 

* * *

He waits for Tommy at midnight, like he does every full moon.

Tommy doesn't come.

Tommy hasn't come for nearly eight months.

Tommy is gone. 

Tubbo knows it in his bones. The others ask him how his meetings go - Wilbur is always curious, always sad and down and apologetic, and Tubbo knows the taller man is sorry, but he can't help but feel some anger for the bard. If it weren't for him, then Tommy would be alive. Would be here. Would be with his family.

He clings to the hope that Tommy is somehow still alive. He prays that Tommy will wander out of the woods with the lopsided smile and horrible posture that he did the first few times they met up in the glade. 

Part of him knows that Tommy will never come. He has to act happy for the others, they cannot find out that Tommy is gone. They cannot know that what they did caused the death of his best friend. 

It is their fault, but Tubbo cannot place all the blame on them. He should have tried harder. He should have been better.

He looks around at the meadow, at the clearing in which he sits. The bees buzz around as if they don't have a care in the world. Tommy found this place for him - for them. It's a pretty clearing with purple and gold flowers and four huge bee nests and Tubbo sometimes likes to collect honey from. 

He closes his eyes and lets the tears fall from his face.

Tommy would not abandon him like this. 

He must have gotten attacked on his own. 

Tommy is gone.

His best friend is gone. 

Tubbo gets up and stumbles home, plastering a smile on his face as he enters the Guild Hall, seeing people having a late-night snack or grabbing some water. 

"How'd it go?" Phil asks hopefully.

He fights to keep the sadness off his face. "Great! We talked about bees and stuff! It was really cool!"

Phil nods and goes back down the hallway that leads to his room. Tubbo has a lump in his throat. He hates lying to them, but they would be worse off if they _knew_ what was going on. 

They can't find out. They would hate themselves more than they already do. Tubbo does not want that.

Perhaps Tommy left. 

No, Tommy promised he wouldn't. 

Which means something happened. 

Tubbo spies his sword leaning against the wall where he left it after polishing it. He looks around; the dining hall has cleared out. He walks over and grabs the sword, strapping it to his waist. 

He walks out into the clear night sky, taking a deep breath as he stares up at the full moon. It's quiet in the city tonight, and normally he'd consider it a peaceful night, one he should relax in the open air in.

Not tonight. 

"Tubbo?"

He turns to face the voice of the third oldest boy in the Guild - Purpled, who is rubbing his eyes and yawning in confusion. "What are you doing?" the purple-eyed boy asks.

"I'm leaving," Tubbo says honestly.

" _What_ ?" Purpled squeaks, finally seeming awake. "What, no, you can't leave, _why_ \- "

"I have to, Purpled," Tubbo says. "Tommy needs me."

And Purpled, who Tubbo should not have underestimated, looks at him for a second. And then looks upward towards the full moon. "He's missing, isn't he?"

He doesn't bother denying it. "Eight months."

"Why didn't you tell anybody?"

"I don't want them to worry. Besides, if he just ghosted us and Wilbur or someone of that caliber comes and finds him, how do you think he's gonna react?"

Purpled smiles sheepishly. "Good point." He hesitates. "Are you going to come back?"

"Of course," he says brightly. "You can tell the others where I _really_ went if I don't come back within a week."

"Okay," Purpled replies. "Goodbye, Tubbo."

"'Bye, Purpled."

He never returns. 


	2. Chapter 2

**~three years later~**

He is the first to stumble across the two gravestones that lie silent and still, in the clearing by the mountains. He'd been out on a scouting mission, looking for the source of a small bit of darkness that had leaked through from the nether that Xisuma had sent him on a mission to find - nothing _too_ exciting, it happened from time to time.

But he hadn't been expecting this. At most, a portal that he'd have to communicate back to the guild about. At most, a bit of action and monsters killed. Not this.

Never this.

Grian stares in silence, his sword held numbly at his side, his sandy blonde hair falling over his face; looking at the two perfect rectangular pieces of stone that can only mean one thing - graves that held the names of two people that had gone missing from their neighboring guild nearly three and a half years ago. 

They have flowers growing on them - erratic wildflowers and tall blossoms that aren't native from here, and he can hear, in the silence, bees buzzing, going from flower to flower and pollinating them, taking the nectar back to their nest for their children. 

He steps closer, and sees two scrolls, not at all affected by the slight breeze, sitting at the bases of each grave. He doesn't understand, doesn't _want_ to understand, but he picks them up anyway and stares at the guild sigil engraved on each one, and the two names in scrawling script. 

He - he has to tell them, he didn't _want_ to, but they have to know - 

He turns and runs.

The perfectly intact gravestones of white marble with the names _Tommy_ and _Tubbo_ on them would remain ingrained on his head for years to come.

* * *

He holds his head high as he walks into the guild hall of his neighboring guild. Xisuma told him to do this, with pity on his face - he has to be the one, he _found_ the graves. Mumbo is waiting outside, he wasn't allowed in - after all, they are competing guilds. Grian has talked with Dream and Techno a few times; they seem like very nice people; though competitive. 

He knows it must've been hard to lose both Tommy and Tubbo. He heard Tommy's incident - it was the biggest thing in the city for weeks and weeks. It was the talk of the world, almost - the prodigy of the biggest guild in the world, a murderer? 

The prodigy of the biggest guild in the world...innocent?

The prodigy of the biggest guild in the world...gone?

Things were a bit of a mess after that. He knows that. And then Tubbo had disappeared, and Grian had been there in a meeting when Purpled had burst in, sobbing, rambling about how Tommy had been missing for months and Tubbo had been lying - how the shorter boy had been going after Tommy, looking for them.

How neither of them had returned. 

There had been search parties. He had partaken in a few. 

There had never been any trace, for miles and miles. It was as if the two boys had disappeared off the face of the earth. 

Grian had been to that clearing where the graves had been found a week before. The graves hadn't been there. Yet, they'd looked as if they'd been there for months, maybe years, by the moss decorating the base.

"Grian?"

He looks up at Wilbur, who's sitting at the head of the table, with dark circles under his eyes, and he opens his mouth, but no words come out. The scrolls in his leather satchel seem to weigh him down like rocks on a drowning person.

Maybe he is drowning.

He is ruining any hope that Wilbur had - that Techno, and Phil, and Dream, and _everyone_ has. That one day Tommy and Tubbo would be found. Innately, he knows that those graves are real, despite the oddness of the situation at hand. Innately, he knows they are gone. 

He is breaking this hope by being here.

But in knowing the truth, and not telling them, he is giving them false hope.

He doesn't know what to do. 

"Grian?" Techno prompts, and Grian's eyes go to the pink-haired man, blinking profusely, his mouth still open. Everyone here looks exhausted.

He feels awful. 

Why did it have to be him?

"Um," he says softly. "I...found something." He reaches into his satchel, and halts, his hands shaking. There is absolute silence in the guild hall, and he takes out the paper scrolls, staring at them in his hand. They are so small, so inconsequential - but they are everything. 

He walks forward and hesitates once more before handing them to Wilbur, who looks confused.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, feeling a hot tear drip down his cheek. "I am so sorry, Wilbur."

Wilbur's face falls in horror as he stares at the two names on the scrolls. "This - this isn't - " he chokes as he cuts himself off, and Phil leans closer, disbelief on his face as well.

"They - " Grian says. "There are two graves in a clearing out in the forest. I found those there."

He has to leave. He has to leave, _now_.

* * *

He sits in the meadow by the graves of his two pseudo-brothers and wonders where he went wrong.

If all of this, truly, is his fault. 

He knows it is. The others don't blame him - the government pressured him to press charges against Tommy. Niki and Fundy were barely able to prove the boy's innocence. But even after that, he thought things would change.

He reaches out a hand and touches it against the cool marble, tracing the lines engraved in each of them. He does not know how they got here. He does not know why they are here.

They are real. They are as real as the letters he has read over and over and over until Phil was forced to make copies so that the originals were legible. They are as real as the sun, as the birds and the trees. They are as real as the wind that rustles through his hair.

He is so tired. He is tired of this life. He knows he must live on - he must bear the burden until he dies, and he can't get out of it early. That's not fair to him. 

He hopes that Tommy and Tubbo are in a better place now. That they are smiling together in fields where one of them wasn't blamed for murder and the other didn't follow to their demise. Where they have older brothers who protected them, and a pseudo-father who didn't let them leave. Where they are happy and laughing like boys deserve to.

Tubbo would have been twenty today. Tommy, nineteen. 

He feels the tears, seemingly endless, roll down his cheek.

He is glad that Grian found it. That there was an end to the searching, to the wondering. That even if he has to cry, at least he knows the end of their tale. 

He sits alone sometimes. Other times it is with Techno and Phil. Sometimes Dream is there, sitting at the edge of the forest. Other times Purpled comes in hesitantly.

Wilbur blames nobody but himself. He should have protected Tommy instead of succumbing to peer pressure. He should have been there when the boy needed him most.

Tommy was right. He did betray Tommy. He betrayed him and would have left him because he was too caught up in his own emotions to see those of the blonde-haired boy. He should have believed Tommy before it was too late.

He should have seen Tubbo's signs.

For all that he has done for the city, he is a horrible person. He can't get out of this - but he wants to. He wants to see them again. 

He knows that it's not fair. That he deserves this pain, and that he can't get out of it that easily.

There is a pain in his heart that won't go away. A pain that he caused, that his guild caused, because of one murder and two boys with happy laughter and kind hearts. Because of one event, and one person that walked away.

Because of two irreversible deaths...his happiness is gone. 

He knows it will return. That he will be sad for a very very long time, and that he will remember the two for the rest of his life. But he will laugh again, one day, and one time he will make it through the day without sobbing in Phil's arms or breaking down in the hallways after seeing a teenager that looks vaguely like Tommy or Tubbo. One day, he will make it through the day without sitting in the silence, and one day, he will forget them.

He doesn't want to. Doesn't deserve to. He deserves the pain.

It will fade with age. 

One day, he will be gone. One day, all of this will be gone - the graves eroded back into the earth, and him, gone like his lifespan. 

Such is it to be human.

But that day is not today, and today he sheds tears for the two brothers whose deaths he could have prevented, whose deaths are entirely his fault.

Maybe he should have been better.

And so Wilbur lowers his head and cries.

* * *

_Hey,_

_Tommy speaking. Or writing. It doesn't really matter, Wil. I know you're reading this. If you are, I'm dead, and I'm sorry._

_I forgive you. I do, Wil, Techno, Phil - anyone and everyone. I forgive all of you from the bottom of my hearts. I know I could have stayed, and things would be better again. Maybe that was the better option, looking back. But I made that choice at that moment, and I will make it again in a heartbeat._

_Maybe by staying, I could have healed the hurt. I guess by leaving I made the hurt worse, huh?_

_I promised I would come back. You promised you would protect me. I guess we both broke our promises._

_To be fair, I thought I would come back. I never thought it would end like this. It was childish, to be fair, to think that the world was my oyster. It was childish and stupid and I was wrong._

_I'm sorry. I hope you find this well. I forgive you. It's not your fault, not really. I shouldn't have walked away from you, and you shouldn't have walked away from me._

_Tell Tubbo I miss him._

_~Tommy_

* * *

_Hi :D!_

_I miss you guys D: You meant the world to me. I went looking for Tommy because I had to, you must understand. I love you. I miss you._

_I found Tommy._

_He's gone, you know._

_I guess in a way, it's your fault. But I forgive you. How could you have known that it would end like this? That all of it would end like this? You couldn't have known. As much as you hurt my friend, you would never have killed him._

_I went after him because I had to. You would have too. I'm sorry I lied. I knew he was missing for months, but I hoped he would come back. I should have done something sooner - it's my fault._

_If you're reading this, I faced the same thing he did, and we both failed._

_I love you._

_~Tubbo_

_ <3 _

* * *

The musician sits in the meadow and cries for his brothers. 

The soldier sits in his chair with his sword 'cross his lap and wonders where he went wrong. 

The father stares at the sunset with music in his ears and tears in his eyes and wonders how the world came crashing down.

The builder wonders if he did the right thing by telling them. Wonders if by dashing everyone's hopes of the boys being alive if it was the reasonable thing in the end.

And the boys look on from another world, wishing they could come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am never playing What are the Odds again. 
> 
> Never.


End file.
